


A Long Way From Eden

by miraeyeteeth, Nightpounce



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bickering, Doublemint Oreo, Gods, Human Sacrifice, Kidnapping, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Naga, Slow Build, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraeyeteeth/pseuds/miraeyeteeth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightpounce/pseuds/Nightpounce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack had never really paid too much attention to the gods, his life had enough issues as it was. But apparently some of them had paid attention to him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack was having a bad day.

Well, more of a bad month really.

Arguably, a bad lifetime.

But today was particularly unpleasant, given that the barbaric nutters that had invaded his homeland, taken him hostage, and enslaved him had now decided that the failing crops were due to the gods being angry, and that only a blood sacrifice would placate them.

Jack had, consequently and abruptly, been dragged away from his duties of serving grapes and cheese to various corpulent politicians, gagged, and chained down on a table that had a pair of very worrying troughs on either side of it.

Twisting his wrists from side to side, Jack tugged experimentally, dismayed to find the cuffs were far too snug for him to have any hope of slipping free. The same was true for the cuffs around his ankles. The spreadeagled position he had been man-handled into didn’t help either, completely preventing him from gaining any leverage. Huffing out a breath in frustration, he rolled his head to the side in an attempt to see where the head nut-job had gone.

Identifying the man was easy given the ridiculous assortment of feathers he was sporting on his headdress and…that really was a very elaborate skirt, but all traces of humor vanished when his eyes landed on the very sharp, very large knife being carefully lifted to the light for a final inspection. Apparently pleased with the keenness of the blade, the man turned and handed it to a subordinate before striding towards the stone table and its captive audience. Completely ignoring the boy chained to the altar’s surface, the Head Priest busied himself with checking the restraints, aligning the surrounding decorations and reaching out to adjust the thin loincloth and silk covered metal collar. It was depressingly clear to Jack that as far as this man was concerned, he was nothing more than meat.

Finally satisfied with the arrangements, the man signaled to the surrounding priests and temple guards, who scrambled into position. Some priests fell to their knees and began to chant whilst others started to beat a steady rhythm on large, finely decorated drums. The guards took up position by various entrances around the room, spears crossed to prevent entry or escape. Jack scoffed. Yeah, because escape was definitely an option when imitating a naked star fish.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, Jack swung his gaze to the ceiling, or lack thereof. The ceremonial chamber this farce was taking place in was located at the top of the temple and open to the elements, having no roof to speak of. At least that meant Jack could watch the last of the sunlight reflect off the gathering storm clouds in a rather spectacular sunset. If he had to die today, at least he’d have a nice view.

He heard the crackle of torches being lit to compensate for the fading light of day, then three shadows loomed over him. Jack blinked, turning his head to follow the movements of the Head Priest and his two subordinates. One of them was hanging back and holding a cushion on which rested the huge, much admired knife from before, the other holding a bowl that sloshed. Chanting in counterpoint to the other priests in the temple, Head Nut-Job dipped his fingers into the sloshing bowl and leaned forward to draw a line of gold paint from the bottom of the collar straight down to the top of his navel. More lines followed, highlighting the jut of his hip bones, the contours of his thigh muscles, the dip of his collar bones and the curve of his cheekbones.

Jack’s breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted, eyes fixed on the knife as it was passed over. The chanting reached a crescendo as the Head Priest stepped around to loom over Jack’s head, raising the knife high and crying out harshly in his strange, braying language.

The temple shook as an enormous bolt of lightning split the sky, followed immediately by a rolling crack of thunder that echoed throughout the surrounding hills and startled a flock of birds from the trees. Jack kept his eyes trained on the roiling clouds above him and wished fervently that a stray lightning bolt would arc through the open roof and strike the bastard hovering over him with the giant metal knife.

Uttering the final line of his chant again, Head Nut gestured dramatically to the chained boy in front of him, drawing breath to speak again when he was silenced by a deafening voice which seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“WHO DARES TO DISTURB MY SLUMBER?!”

Jack’s eyes snapped wide, gaze darting around the chamber as he angled his head and tried to pinpoint the source of the voice. Head Nut had cowered slightly at the first bellow, shoulders hunching and arms lowering as he responded hesitantly, eyes locked on the sky.

A second, deeper voice responded, rumbling over what sounded like the angry hiss of a thousand vipers. Jack’s gaze was caught by the shadows thrown by the torches and the flickering lightning, watching as they seemed to writhe and stretch unnaturally.

“YOUR PLEA HAS BEEN HEARD MORTAL! WHY HAVE YOU CALLED UPON THE GODS?”

Straightening again, the Head Priest cleared his throat, adjusted his feathers and launched into what Jack assumed was a request for divine intervention. The words were spoken too quickly, the turn of phrase far more complicated than the little bits of language he’d picked up whilst serving and in the kitchens. Pausing, the feathered nut stepped back and away from Jack, presumably to offer a clearer view and gestured grandly at the sacrificial altar.

The thunder quieted, the lightning stopped flickering and the silence became weighted. Jack swallowed around his gag, biting down on the padded bar between his teeth and keeping his eyes resolutely on the twisting shadows as he tried to ignore a growing sense of self-consciousness the longer the heavy silence stretched.

“YOU THINK A SINGLE, MEAGER SACRIFICE IS ENOUGH TO APPEASE US? TO RIGHT THE INSULT GIVEN?”

There were definitely two distinct voices. The first voice, the one continuing to speak now was darker, smoother, more hiss than rumble. It ebbed and flowed, starting soft and soothing and rising to an insulted snarl.

“AGREED. NO MATTER HOW… UNUSUAL HIS APPEARANCE, HE IS STILL JUST ONE MORTAL. YOUR PEOPLE TRESPASSED WHERE NO ONE IS ALLOWED.”

This second voice was deeper, rougher. Rumbling through the air in a tone that brooked no argument, clearly used to being obeyed. Disapproval evident, it continued.

“YOUR TRANSGRESSION CANNOT BE OVERLOOKED NOR FORGIVEN. WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THIS OFFERING PROVIDES SUFFICIENT RECOMPENSE?”

Visibly sweating, the Head Priest stepped forward again, gripping Jack’s chin and forcing his head to turn left and right before tipping his head back and baring his throat, speaking throughout. Releasing Jack’s chin the man’s hand gripped the collar before trailing down Jack’s chest and following the painted lines. Jack definitely recognised snippets of the one sided conversation. “Young”, “rare”, “prisoner”. The man’s hand paused over the loincloth and Jack distinctly heard the words “subtle” and “untouched”. Growling deep in his throat Jack hissed around the gag, a garbled insult preceding a baleful glare. How dare this bastard list his wares as if he were no more than a prize farm animal out for auction.

“WHILST HE IS INDEED LOVELY, HE IS STILL NOT…”

Jack swung his eyes towards the clouds, shifting his glare and offering another muffled insult as he twisted his wrist and did his best to make it apparent just what he thought the voice should do with itself.

The crackling of the torches was painfully loud in the shocked silence of the temple, but before the Head Priest could utter a word, soft laughter filled the air, quiet snickers mixing with deeper chuckles. The shadows stretched further from the walls, reaching out towards the altar.

“FEISTY…”

“HE HAS SPIRIT. PERHAPS HE SHALL BE ADEQUATE AFTER ALL. VERY WELL… WE ACCEPT YOUR OFFERING.”

Relief spread across the faces of the priests even as their leader stepped forward calling out thanks. A hand fisted in Jack’s hair as his head was yanked back and his throat stretched tight. Eyes widening and chest heaving at the cool press of the blade against his skin, Jack’s choked gasp was lost as both voices spoke simultaneously.

“STOP YOU FOOLS!”

“STAY YOUR BLADE!”

Everyone froze, watching as the shadows crawled up the altar supports and moved to lap at the bound limbs of its current resident.

“YOUR PEOPLE TRESPASSED ON SACRED LAND AND SO NO SIMPLE RITUAL WILL DO. TAKE THE OFFERING, ALIVE AND UNHARMED, PAST THE BORDERS OF YOUR LAND AND HIGH INTO THE MOUNTAINS. PLACE HIM ON THE PLATEAU, THE ELEMENTS SHALL CLAIM HIS LIFE. FUELED BY HIS SPIRIT, THEY SHALL BREAK THE MALICE ON YOUR CROPS.”

The shadows withdrew, sliding from the altar to pool across the floor. Lightning cracked across the sky once more.

“KNOW THAT IF YOU EVER TRESPASS INTO SACRED LAND AGAIN, OUR WRATH WILL NOT BE SO EASILY STAYED."

Following this last, sinister promise thunder shook the temple once more as the roiling clouds finally opened, fat drops of rain pelting through the open roof to drench the gathering. Jack couldn’t help the weary sigh as his wrists and ankles were unchained and he was hoisted up, shoulders slumping as he realised he’d just traded one quick, albeit gory death for a more protracted one.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was kneeling on the ground, rough points of gravel digging into his bare shins. His wrists were once again shackled, this time behind his back. The chain connecting them also ran through the loop of a steel picket that had been driven into the ground, preventing him from moving so much as a foot from his current position. Manacles also hobbled his ankles, because  _clearly_  if Jack had actually been able to move his feet more than four inches apart he would have been able to break free and dash off into the sunset, making rude gestures the whole way. Oh wait, no. Of course he wouldn’t have been able to do that. He might have actually been able to shift so that his legs weren’t in a constant state of pins-and-needles, though. Too much to expect some consideration from the bastards that had dragged him to the plateau just past sunset and left him up here to die, he guessed.

But hell, maybe he should be grateful for the steel around his limbs, those were the parts of his body that were best shielded from the weather. The rest of the get-up he’d been manhandled into certainly wasn’t going to do him many favours in that department. Whilst he hadn’t exactly been a fan of the loincloth and body paint combination from earlier, being chained to a stone altar and threatened with dissection had been higher on his list of worries. Here, high in the mountains with only the wind for company, he had no such distractions and could take his time fully appreciating the current fashion disaster he was calling clothing. He couldn’t really fault the colours. Black silk, accentuated with gold and silver thread had been draped around his thin form, held in place by strategically placed belts and clasps. He was reasonably sure the snug belt at his waist was gold and the clasps on his shoulders were silver. Instead of pants, the silk was left to flow freely down his front and back, his legs exposed and his feet bare. Daintier cuffs of beaten gold encircled each wrist and ankle, just below the heavier manacles. The previous collar had also been replaced, a thick onyx and silver ring taking it’s place. A heavy veil, brindled black and gold and weighted at the edges with precious stones of varying colours, completed the picture. In Jack’s opinion, the veil had two things going for it; it had provided an extra shred of warmth through the coldest hours of the night and it would have prevented anyone from seeing his face which was currently covered in a layer of makeup so thick that it was practically a face all on its own. If there had been anyone around to actually see him, that was.

In the lowlands it was warm enough that his usual state of undress (he hadn’t been given serving duties because of his brisk efficiency, that was for sure) wasn’t much of an inconvenience, but this high in the mountains the temperature was significantly lower, especially through the long, cold night and with the chill breeze that had blown constantly during it. He was shivering uncontrollably at this point, teeth chattering and fingers and toes stinging. Wonderful, at this rate, he’d be able to add frostbite to his list of life experiences. Now, though, he could just barely see the hints of a weak, greyish light start to seep through the heavy veil. It would be dawn soon, maybe when the sun rose it would get warmer. Probably not enough to make a difference.

With little else to think about, Jack’s thoughts turned to wondering what would kill him first, freezing to death, thirst, or maybe a wild animal deciding to put him out of his misery. He’d heard wolves howling on other nights, maybe one of those would find him. Would that be better or worse than the other options? Maybe the prospect of pawing through layers of silk, makeup and jewelry would deter them. At least the sickly sweet incense that had been burning earlier was no more, although the scent of it still clung to his veil.

Earlier in the night he had considered momentarily appealing to a higher power to rescue him, but considering he was in this predicament because of a pair of gods already, he highly doubted that would do any good. He was on his own.

Well, maybe the afterlife would turn out to be better than this. Not much chance of it being worse, at least. Really, he’d just be happy if it included pants, preferably thick and if possible, made of soft leather. A bath would be nice as well.

“Did they really need to chain him up?” Jack froze at the sudden sound of a voice.

“They need their ceremony. All the jewelry is a bit much, though. I wonder if he’s still conscious, I can’t believe they left him with barely anything on.” There were two people here? The voices sounded vaguely familiar.

“I could make a plague…”

“No, you’ve done enough.” The wind seemed to die down enough for him to make out a dull rustling noise, and then a large, blessedly warm hand rested on his shoulder. “Jack?”

“W-who’re you?” Jack managed to demand through chattering teeth, twisting his head in the direction of the noise. The heavy veil he’d been forced into obscured his vision, and the first light of dawn was still too weak to be of much help. He couldn’t see a thing. “H-h-how do you kn-know my name?”

“We’re here to help. Pitch?”

“Metal is such a pain…” the other voice grumbled. With a screeching sound of warping metal, Jack felt the shackles on his arms suddenly deform and drop from his wrists to the ground with a dull clunk. A moment later, the same thing happened to his ankle’ restraints.

So, not likely human then. Jack brought his hands in front of him, rubbing his wrists to try and get the feeling back in them whilst rolling his shoulders. “Look, I don’t know what’s the d-deal is here, b-b-but where I’m from,  _human sacrifice_  is not something-” Jack’s ill-tempered muttering cut off when he finally yanked the veil off and caught sight of the two men standing over him.

Well, actually  _men_  and  _standing_ weren’t really the right terms.  _Creatures_  and  _looming_  were much better descriptors. Scales. That was the only thing Jack could think as his eyes darted over the two forms. At least now he understood the priests’ colour choice and why the wind chill seemed to have dropped. He was surrounded, encircled completely by thick coils which shifted restlessly, sliding noiselessly over each other in an ever shifting pattern of bronzed gold and jet back. Jack’s eyes dragged upwards, noting opposing colour schemes in the predawn light - black body, gold underbelly, gold body, black underbelly. Instead of serpentine heads, the scales gave way to a ridge of muscle and bone before tapering into flat abdomens and smooth chests, crossed arms and curiously tilted heads. “H-holy shit, you’re giant snakes!” Jack yelped, scrambling to his feet and staring, wide eyed at the rippling coils around him.

One of the things, the one with grey human skin, and mostly black scales, blinked at him with slit-pupiled eyes. “Rude,” it said.

“Naga is actually the correct term,” the other one, bronze skinned with a mostly gold body, replied helpfully.

“I’ll keep that in mind!” Jack responded, as he whirled around, vaulted the coils and bolted for the trees. If he could lose the- A slim, strong length of  _something_  suddenly wrapping around his ankle brought him up short, coming to an abrupt halt face-first in the dirt. Trying to process just WHAT had snagged him, Jack found himself hoisted into the air, dangling by his foot and struggling with his silk. He supposed he should be grateful it had fallen so he wasn’t completely exposed. Shoving aside a semi-translucent swath of material, he caught sight of a black-scaled tail curled around his ankle.

“Why do they always try to run?” the one who was currently holding him up sighed.

“I believe they think we’re going to eat them.”

“Well, that’s stupid. Humans are  _gamey_ ,” it replied with a grimace, drawing it’s tail and by extension, Jack, closer.

 _Doesn’t that mean they’ve tried it?_ “Glad to hear that, n-now if I could just be on my way, that’d b-be great,” Jack said through still-chattering teeth, trying to reach up so he could yank at the tail wrapped around his foot.

The one holding him looked Jack up and down, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Well, spirit he’s got in spades, but I’m not so sure about smarts.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware I needed t-to provide credentials!” Jack snapped. “Let me go!”

“I’m not sure you understand what being a sacrifice entails. Your life belongs to us now, boy. You’re not going anywhere.”

Jack shivered, and this time it had nothing to do with the weather. “I didn’t agree to anything,” he muttered, quieter now. “Take it up with th-that priest instead, or the people that did the trespassing in the first place. It’s n-not my problem.”

“So, you would let thousands of people starve?” the other creature asked, clawed fingertips tapping lightly against it’s still crossed forearms.

“What, you mean the country that enslaved me and staked me out to die?! The same people that tied me to an altar and attempted to slit my throat? Sure, starve them! Why not rain down fire and boulders from the sky while you’re at it!” Jack growled, abandoning his quest to reach his ankle in order to push more damn silk out of the way and glare. He yelped as the tail around his ankle suddenly shifted, yanking sharply and tossing him upwards before lashing out again, this time coiling around and down both his legs. In the space of a few breaths, Jack found himself wrapped tight, scaled muscle encircling him from his calves to the base of his ribs. Gasping as the world suddenly rotated in a swish of settling silk, Jack was turned upright and found himself face-to-face with the thing that had wrapped itself around him, staring into slitted, golden eyes set above ivory fangs bared in a wide smirk.

“Vicious… You’d like me to kill them, then? Wipe this little speck off the map?” it asked, almost gleefully, the coils around his body tightening slightly.

Jack swallowed, trying to lean away from the thing. “I…” His shoulders slumped. “No. I don’t want people to die,” he replied, dropping his eyes to the ground, hands resting loosely against the scales wrapped tight around his belly. There were plenty of innocent people in the area, after all, along with the bastard priests. He knew how awful it was to have tragedy befall you simply for living in the wrong location. He bit his lip. “Fine, then. Get it over with,” he whispered, glad that at least his voice didn’t shake. The warmth seeping into his bones from the coils around him was working wonders in keeping his teeth from chattering, so that sliver of pride was preserved, for what it was worth. He was betting on being crushed to a fine pulp by the very same things in short order, though, so it was of little comfort.

The one holding him let out a disappointed little huff.

“Over with?” the other asked, slithering closer. “This isn’t really an arrangement that is over and done with quickly.”

Jack stiffened, fear and confusion blossoming in his chest. What was going to happen, if this was supposed to be prolonged? Torture?

“Let’s go home, Pitch.”

The darker one, who seemed to have been sulking up until this point, sighed. “All right.”

There was an utterly disorienting moment where everything seemed to compress to a single point, his skin too tight for the rest of his body, his ears popping, and suddenly Jack was no longer high on a windy plateau, deep in the mountains.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for molestation in this chapter.

Hearing was the first sense to return, the trickle of running water echoing faintly throughout the stone chamber Jack and his two mythological man handlers appeared in. Jack reeled, sagging bonelessly in the coils still wrapped tightly around him and trying desperately not to dry heave. Whatever inhuman method of transportation had just been used had left him feeling light-headed and grateful his last meal had been over a day and a half ago.

Swallowing repeatedly, hands clenching and unclenching against the scales below his ribs, Jack squeezed his eyes shut and took a long, shuddering breath. Vaguely, Jack became aware of a hand smoothing up his spine in long, soothing strokes before sliding over and around his chest and pulling him back against a hard torso,  a second hand with claw-tipped fingers moving to slide through his hair and scritch at his scalp. The coils around his legs seemed to loosen slightly as the creature holding him sank down, long body shifting and sliding underneath and against Jack before tightening again, drawing closer around the boy as he heard a satisfied hum and felt the heavy weight of a chin drop to rest against the top of his head.

Jack’s breath hitched at the feel of warm scales sliding up against the sensitive skin of his thighs and then left his body in a startled squeak as claws slipped beneath silk to drag lightly against his belly. Jack jerked, attempting to squirm away from the wandering digits making their way up and along his ribs. “H-Hey! Hands off- Oi!” Hot breath against the shell of his ear and the flick of a long, raspy tongue had him jerking his head forward only to freeze again at the soft press of thin lips and fangs against the nape of his neck. He sucked in a breath to fuel what he planned to be a long, detailed and highly creative description of personal space, its importance and the need for snake people to respect it, but the sound of a heavy smack followed by the sudden lurch and enraged hiss of the creature holding him derailed his righteous indignation.

“WHAT in the name of all things dark do you think you are DOING Kozmotissss?!” Wandering hands withdrew and arms unwrapped as Jack found himself unceremoniously dropped amidst agitated black coils and the darker snake… naga… Pitch? whipped his upper body around to glare balefully at his counterpart. Hand still raised from delivering the smack to the back of the other’s head, Kozmotis levelled his counterpart with an unimpressed look.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer Pitchiner.” Ignoring the rumbling growl and infuriated hiss, Kozmotis slithered past, reaching down to pluck Jack effortlessly from the black coils by the scruff of his neck before placing him back on solid ground. Large hand shifting to Jack’s shoulder, Kozmotis guided the still-shaky boy from the chamber.

“He was shivering! I was simply helping to warm him!” Petulant tones echoed as the other followed, scales soundless over the smooth stone.

“Please, my sense of smell is just as good as yours, I know exactly what you were ‘just doing’, you deviant. Keep your claws to yourself and help me find where we put all those human clothes we received as tribute a while back. I’m sure it wasn’t more than a few centuries ago, they can’t be buried too deep.”

The passageway they moved through was wide and angled upwards, the ceiling shadowed and high enough for both naga to stretch tall without the risk of striking their heads. The walls seemed to glow faintly, illuminating the passage and setting the shadows above flickering oddly. Keeping his eyes down, Jack concentrated on not stubbing any of his toes and attempted to keep the trailing silk from getting caught under his current keepers. The last thing he wanted was for the silk to catch and tear, there was enough on display already! At least the floor was smooth, the onyx tiles buffed after centuries of use and the constant scuff of heavy, scaled bodies. He’d take what small mercies he could get, the idea of stubbing one of his already frostbitten toes not the least bit appealing.

Jack’s jaw dropped as the passageway widened into an arch and he stared out at the new chamber. It was enormous, with a vaulted ceiling so high he could barely make it out, supported by thick, intricately patterned stone pillars. Along intervals of these pillars, arcing stone crossbeams spanned the gap between them, a series of what appeared to be multiple extra stories formed only by these precarious bridges. From beneath the crossbeams hung all manner of objects, baskets and elegant chandeliers and… were those  _cages_?

Swallowing, Jack hastily directed his gaze downwards instead, examining the onyx, gold and slate tiles patterning the floor and sliding his eyes over to the strange swirling murals decorating the walls. Jack could have sworn those were moving, their constant ebb and flow accompanied by the softest sound of shifting sand. Multiple ornate doorways pierced the walls at regular intervals, presumably leading to more tunnels.

Strangest of all was the lighting, sections of the chamber either starkly lit as if by daylight, - how was that even possible, weren’t they were inside an underground temple?- or swathed in the deepest shadows. There didn’t seem to be any order or reasoning behind the changes in lighting, the areas where the two opposing forces met merging to form a soft twilight.

Despite the unique architecture, Jack’s eyes were inexorably drawn to what seemed like an entire banquet laid out on a series of benches and tables. The lavish spread of food looked far more enticing to him than any jewels or gold, and brought immediate attention to Jack’s extremely empty stomach. He licked his lips. Before he tried escaping, he should really take some of that. There was so much, he doubted they would notice a couple things missing here or there…

The hand guiding him dropped from his shoulder as the golden naga released him, moving across the polished floor towards a wall lined with intricately decorated trunks and woven baskets. Still grumbling, Pitch moved past, slithering effortlessly up a thick stone pillar to rifle through a series of hanging baskets and large nets.

"Why does he even  _need_  clothes….stupid, inconvenient things” Muscles rippled beneath black scales.

“Humans get cold, stop behaving like a hatchling!” A clawed hand flicked thick metal latches open and lifted a heavy looking lid.

“We are perfectly capable of keeping him warm! Are you planning on making it snow for his entertainment?” A pair of soft looking leather pants (pants! oh yes please pants!) were pulled from a basket and flicked down towards Kozmotis.

“Somehow I feel he would not appreciate constant skin to skin contact with you.” A golden tail snatched the tossed garment from the air before it could touch the floor.

“He should feel honoured I would grace him with my touch and presence,” Pitch replied haughtily.

“As one who has the misfortune of putting up with your touch and presence constantly, allow me to inform you that ‘honoured’ is the last thing he would be feeling,” Kozmotis retorted, inspecting and then tossing aside what appeared to be a massive bearskin rug.

Wide eyes trained on the two reptiles bickering across the room, Jack sidled sideways towards the heavily laden benches and tables. The enraged hisses, petulant remarks and long suffering responses continued, interspersed by the sound of opening lids, shuffling items and an occasional heavy thump as Jack examined a platter of exotic fruits. It had been almost two full days since he’d had anything approaching an actual meal, terror and adrenaline just not cutting it in the ‘wholesome and nutritious food’ department. The surfaces before him were heaped with plates and bowls, platters and trays. Fruits of every size and colour, breads, cheeses and meats (some of them cooked or dried and some of them… not) were piled in no particular order. Tugging at the lid of a large pot on the floor, Jack lifted it to discover olives, light green and fat, the oil they were sitting in filling the air with a pungent, spicy aroma. A second jar revealed black olives, the oil less pungent but saltier as he licked a stray drop from his finger. Standing on his tip-toes to inspect the contents of a large jug, Jack found it full of dark, crimson wine, strong enough that just the fumes were starting to make him feel light-headed.

Jack’s stomach decided it had had enough of him simply admiring the foodstuffs spread before him, growling loud and long, cutting over the verbal sparring of the twin deities. He took a quick, guilty step back from the table, but it was still obvious what he had been doing. Shoulders hunching slightly at the incredulous looks he received, he shrugged and rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“What was  _that_? Did they force some strange beast down your throat?” Pitch was staring at him from the top of a nearby pillar, clearly in the process of dropping items of clothing down on his brother.

“Um, sorry? It  _has_ been a while since I ate anything. I guess dissecting someone who just ate might be a bit off-putting?”

Kozmotis frowned, gesturing back at the food. “Help yourself, but be warned, the wine is potent. Especially for someone of your… stature.”

“Yes, eat, now! You’re far too light,” Pitch’s voice drifted down from above as he made his way along one of the thick stone arches running between the pillars.

“Okay then… Thanks! I’ve never even seen some of these foods before,” Jack stepped back up to the benches and tables, eyes darting over the food and trying to decide what to try first. Choosing to start with one of the more interesting looking fruits, a palm-sized deep purple sphere with a yellowish stem, Jack stretched up to reach for it, other hand resting against the edge of the bench for balance.

“NOT THAT ONE!”

Heart lodged firmly in his lower throat and attempting to climb higher, Jack recoiled from the booming voice, flinching to the side and darting away. Nope, screw it, he could try to find something to eat when he was out of here;  _one_ of those tunnels had to lead to a nice, sane, snake-free place-

Jack managed to sprint a whole three feet before being brought up sharply by the grey skinned hand clamped firmly around his wrist. He snapped his gaze up to stare into a stormy and currently upside-down face. Pitch was suspended directly above Jack’s head, his lower half wrapped firmly around an arch above Jack’s head and supporting him as he dangled.

“I-I’m sorry! I just- I’d never seen that one before so I thought- You did say I could-” Jack babbled.

“That particular fruit induces paralysis and vivid hallucinations.”

Pitch released Jack’s wrist as he rose back towards the arch above before shifting to slither down a nearby pillar. He approached a frozen Jack, who was staring in horror and apprehension at the attractive piece of  _deadly_  fruit, and the rest of the food laid out in front of him. Drawing to a stop beside the benches, Pitch flicked his clawed hand out, several fruits disappearing from the platters, bowls and plates.

“I’ve been developing that particular species recently.” The horrified gaze shifted from the benches to the gleeful naga who preened as he continued, “I plan to seed all our sacred sites with them. See how many trespassers survive their little jaunts. I’ll have to encourage the local predator populations of course…” Tapping his chin with one clawed finger, Pitch shifted his gaze to the boy edging away from him, tail sliding along the floor to casually block Jack’s intended escape route. “I wasn’t sure the colour would attract the human eye! Seems I needn’t have worried!”

He was going to die, Jack was convinced. It might not even be deliberate, but he was still going to die in some spectacular and possibly stupid fashion, accidentally snuffed out by a homicidal snake god.

“You complete and utter idiot! What possessed you to leave your gardening experiments mixed in with our food offerings?”  Kozmotis abandoned the basket he was sorting through, placing the clothing he had already collected on a ledge as he reared up and moved closer, glaring over Jack’s head at his brother.

Pitch rose to match his twin’s height, slithering around the benches and tables to approach Kozmotis.

“I fail to see the issue!”

“He almost ate a potentially deadly and certainly traumatising fruit!”

“I stopped him! As usual, you jump to the worst conclusions. Always overreacting! It wouldn’t have killed him. The hallucinations would have stopped after 2 days, the paralysis a day or so later.”

“I believe you  _may_  have missed the crux of the problem, dear brother. Most cultures frown on poisoning a guest!”

“He’s not a guest, he’s ours! Besides, Jack has just helped to prove the fruit is visually attractive and enticing!”

Kozmotis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Words fail me.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Oh, I have words, it’s just none of them do justice to your stupidity.”

Jack threw himself to the floor as Pitch snarled and lashed his tail violently to the side in an amazingly nagaesque temper tantrum. A heavy thump, a rain of fruit and the crash of pottery was the only warning Jack had before he was doused in a deluge of deep red liquid, his startled yelp and scrambling retreat drawing the nagas’ attention.

“Are you hurt?” Kozmotis asked, abandoning the argument to slither across the chamber towards Jack and, nope, he was still not okay with the thing approaching him. His flight instinct was screaming at him to get away from the obvious predator, even though he knew there was nowhere to go when the things were paying attention to him.

“Fine! I’m fine, nothing to worry about, haha,” Jack said hastily, shaking wine out of his eyes and backing away. “I’ll just-”

He backed into a solid object and suddenly found arms wrapped around his torso once more, heedless of the way that Jack jumped. He shot a glance backwards to see that Pitch had somehow gotten behind him whilst he was focused on Kozmotis, and had the sinking feeling that he would be finding himself in this position frequently from now on.

“Oh, just look at the mess I made of you…” Pitch tsked, wiping a trickle of wine from Jack’s cheek with his thumb and licking it off the digit with a forked tongue. He stopped quickly, grimacing. “Your makeup is running. And I think if we don’t do something soon, this will stain your hair…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, I don’t mind-”

“No, no, we really must wash you up. I insist,” Pitch interrupted, hooking an arm underneath Jack’s armpits and hoisting him up before starting to slither off.

“I have legs, you know!” Jack snapped, squirming in the naga’s grip.

Pitch paused, looking down at Jack quizzically. “Yes, you do. I noticed,” he replied, before continuing down one of the tunnels to enter a room filled with steam, the sounds of dripping water and the faint smell of sulphur.

“It means I can walk! You don’t have to hoist me around everywhere like some kind of doll- Hey!” Jack protested when Pitch plopped him down on a ledge and started undoing one of the clasps holding the silk in place at his shoulder. “I can bathe and undress myself, thank you!”

“You’ve had a long day, Jack. Let us help,” the sound of Kozmotis’ voice at his ear and the sudden feeling of a clawed hand at his throat made Jack flinch. But then there was a click and that damn heavy collar was opened and pulled off from around his neck, and Jack couldn’t deny that wasn’t a little bit of a relief. The band was discarded on the floor with a clang and the golden naga turned his attention to pulling off the anklets, bracelets, and other pieces of jewellery that had been foisted upon him.

“Yeah, and whose fault is it that I ended up being staked out on a mountain, again?” Jack retorted.

“Why, it was the priests’, of course. We rescued you, remember?” Pitch replied easily, undoing the second clasp and letting the silk slither down Jack’s chest to leave his upper body exposed.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not how I remember it, Mr. ‘take him high in the mountains and let the elements claim his life’,” Jack muttered, hunching his shoulders. He jerked and let out an involuntary snort as Kozmotis brushed the bottom of his foot with careful claw tips whilst removing a golden anklet. “Ticklish! Careful!”

“Well, certain protocols do need to be followed when it comes to sacrifices… We need to keep up appearances,” Kozmotis replied, straightening up and pulling one of Jack’s arms free from its crossed position.

Pitch made an unhappy noise and ran one finger down the length of Jack’s now-exposed side, over his ribs. “Look how skinny he is, Koz! Do you think they fed him at all?”

“Not well enough, clearly. But we can rectify that. I’m more concerned about the state of his limbs right now,” Kozmotis replied, slipping off the last of the dainty golden bracelets from Jack’s wrist and gesturing to the now-bare limb. “Look at how much the manacles chafed his skin. There’s even scabbing. And his fingers and toes, all of them are frostbitten. Some of them quite badly.”

Pitch growled. “Are you  _sure_  I can’t make a plague?”

“…Maybe a flood. A  _small_  one. We’ll discuss it later. Right now, let’s see if I can’t get rid of this…” Kozmotis cupped one of Jack’s hands in his own and raised it to his mouth. Jack squeaked and tried to pull away, but instead of the bite he expected, warm breath was blown over his fingertips. The half-numbed, stinging sensation of the frostbite suddenly vanished, momentarily replaced with not-unpleasant tingling before fading into normal feeling in his hand once more. Confused, Jack didn’t resist as the same treatment was given to his other hand and then his feet.

“I think I have some salve that we can put on the shackle wounds, after the bath. It should fix him right up.”

"Great!” Pitch replied, taking the opportunity while Jack was distracted to undo Jack’s belt and tug the silk free.

“Whoa! Oi!” Jack snapped, dropping his hands down to cover himself.

“Please, it’s not like the outfit left much to the imagination anyway,” Pitch said dismissively, his tail curling around Jack to lift him back up again.

The sensation of smooth, warm scales on Jack’s bare skin made him swallow a gasp and try to think very, very hard about cold rain, snow, North, the head of a mountain tribe he’d once met as a child, belly dancing whilst naked….urgh…and Pitch dragged him off once more, Kozmotis following behind. Through the mist, Jack spotted the hot spring that they were headed for. To be more exact, he spotted how very dark it was and how he could not see the bottom. “Um, how deep is that?” he asked, voice slightly higher than usual.

“…I’m not sure, actually. Pitch?”

“I haven’t checked. It might not actually have a bottom? Don’t worry though, there shouldn’t be anything living near the top layer at least,” the darker naga replied, shifting and extending his tail to suspend Jack over the surface.

“Wait, hold on, I can’t swi-” was all that Jack managed to get out before he was dropped into the water and everything dissolved into a disorienting, frantic blur of darkness and bubbles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible warnings for Jack being pretty out of it for some of the story; the descriptions might resemble being drugged (though Jack’s just really tired and sleep deprived). Also warnings for drowning.

OHMYGODI’MGONNADIE!!

He’d really thought he was resigned to meet a messy end after all of this, but apparently his self-preservation instinct had other ideas, and panic surged through his veins. Jack thrashed, that one garbled, panic filled sentence repeating in an endless litany as he twisted, clamping his mouth shut in an effort not to lose precious air in a terrified scream. Limbs flailing in a desperate attempt to reach the surface, he forced his eyes open, staring wildly around the blurred, watery depths - the surface, where was the surface, why could he not see which way to kick! Heart hammering, gut twisting and lungs starting to burn Jack realised with sick horror that he could no longer tell which way was up…even if he COULD coordinate his limbs, he had no idea which way to go. The water was dark and warm, the faint luminescence of the cave walls unable to penetrate this deep, leaving Jack suspended in oppressive, murky darkness unable to see or hear anything but the sound of his blood rushing through his veins.

Typical, just fucking typical. After all he’d survived - the invasion of his home country, slavery, sacrificial altars,insane feather-toting priests, isolated mountain plateaus, a variety of fashion disasters, homicidal snake-gods and deceptively deadly fruit - he was going to die in the bath. If he had had any air left, he’d have laughed. Instead, he keened low in his throat, kicking violently once more before going limp, eyes sliding shut and jaw unclenching as the last of his air escaped.  At least all the weirdness would stop… that was something….

The sudden crush of strong limbs and a violent burst of motion jarred Jack’s fading thoughts, bubbles and blurred golden scales swirling past before light and noise and air - oh gods air! - assaulted his senses. Coughing, limbs shaking and chest heaving, Jack retched repeatedly, the gentle ripple of thick golden coils around his midriff and chest encouraging his body to expel the water he’d ingested even as a large, gentle hand rubbed soothing circles against his back. Coughs and retching gave way to sobs, tears mingling with the water still dripping from his hair and down his cheeks. The coils supporting him shifted, turning him as an arm slipped around his shoulders and held him against a smooth, bronze skinned chest, vibrating with a low, steady rumble. Kozmtis’s other hand continuing to rub his back, claws feather-light over his bare skin as Jack continued to shake uncontrollably.

“Is he ok? Did he break? Why isn’t he moving?” Pitch’s panicked voice echoed off the walls, making Jack wince.

“It’s called shock Pitchiner, it’s a state animals enter when they have a suitably traumatic experience!”

Animals? If Jack wasn’t busy dragging oxygen into his lungs, he’d be insulted.

“How is a bath traumatic?”

“He can’t swim, he almost drowned!”

“How was I supposed to know he couldn’t swim?” Jack refused to lift his head from where it rested on Kozmotis’s shoulder, focusing on drawing in deep lungfuls of wonderful, life sustaining air. The soft scuff of scales against stone announced Pitch’s approach.

“Don’t worry Jack, even if you  _had_  drowned, which you  _didn’t_ , we are very well acquainted with the keeper of the Underworld. It would have been no trouble at all to pop down and retrieve you.”

Jack groaned.

“Yes, thank you Pitch. That was very helpful!”

“What?!”

“Nope,” Jack croaked.

“…What?” the both of them asked in stereo.

“No, that’s it. I’m done. I don’t give a damn anymore,” Jack muttered, slumping bonelessly against Kozmotis. He was exhausted, starving, half-drowned, and sore. He just wanted to fall asleep and forget all about everything. “Caring about things is too exhausting.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stop resisting, then?” Pitch piped up, but a rumbling growl from Kozmotis made him change tack. “I mean… Things will look better later? It’s really very nice here.”

_Doubt it,_  Jack thought, but said nothing.

“Come on Koz, bring him over here, he still needs a bit of a scrub.”

The other naga effortlessly hauled Jack’s dead weight over to a stone bench, where he was deposited and washed with soft, sweet-smelling soap and buckets of warm water. It sounded like the others were talking or arguing about something or other, but the words blended into the white noise of the water and Jack couldn’t be bothered to try to decipher it. Not like the things ever listened to what he had to say, so he didn’t see why he should do so for them. He was dozing off by the time the lathering stopped, listing back against warm, supporting coils and keeping his eyes closed as another bucket of warm water was tipped slowly over his head and shoulders….yeah…eyes closed was good…nothing was going to get him to open them again anytime soon. But Jack stirred as the most mouth-watering scent he had ever encountered and an answering growl from his stomach convinced him to crack open an eye.

Pitch loomed over him, brandishing a spoon; Kozmotis toted a stone bowl next to him. They weren’t in the hot spring cavern anymore, but back in the central area of the lair, Jack resting - still naked damnit - in what felt like a nest of pillows and soft furs. He wondered whether he should be concerned that he didn’t remember the bath ending or being moved, but discarded the thought. Too much trouble…why was he awake again? Pillows and furs stirred and shifted as strong bodies slithered and wound around his prone form, coils pushing him gently into a sitting position.

“Open wide,” the dark naga coaxed, jiggling the spoon.

Hunger and tiredness won over his momentary flare of irritation at being treated like an infant, and Jack did as he was told. Whatever the stuff was- some kind of thick, meaty stew, and he was beyond even caring what  _type_  of meat -, it tasted fantastic, flavours bursting over his tongue. He sat up a little straighter for the next spoonful, ignoring the knowing chuckles as he swallowed the next mouthful eagerly. It didn’t take very long before he was pleasantly full for the first time in days and his eyelids started to droop as his exhaustion reasserted itself. Noises started to blur together, the coils around him shifting…voices, the clink stone on stone, the soft rustling of fabric and the rasp of scales over stone, silk and fur.

Jack was only vaguely aware of a soft shirt being tugged over his head, gentle hands guiding his arms up and through long, loose sleeves before smoothing the cool fabric down and along his body.  Sighing, he shifted, threading fur between his fingers before smooth scales wrapped under and around, arms pulling him between two broad chests as sleep claimed him.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack stirred lazily, far too comfortable to bother with complicated thoughts or overly ambitious movements. He yawned, jaw cracking and back popping as he curled his spine in a cat-like stretch before falling limp and rolling over, shifting closer to curl against the smooth, warm chest he rested against. Jack hummed happily, enjoying the additional heat as an arm slipped around his waist, pulling him closer, the hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. Sleep started to pull at the corners of his mind again, the absentminded kneading of strong fingers helping to relax him… This was nice…. Not quite as nice as pants but acceptable.

Wait… Why didn’t he have pants? He frowned, blinking and attempting to lift his head only to be brought up short by the tightening of fingers around the nape of his neck, the arm at his waist squeezing slightly. Fingers? Arm? He hadn’t shared a bed since before he’d been enslaved and even then, only when his sister had needed comforting after a particularly bad nightmare… And there was no way the person holding him was his sister, not unless she’d had a very impressive growth spurt.

Memories started to trickle back; feathers, a knife, voices from the sky, silk – oh right, that’s why he had no pants – giant snakes, the most terrifying bath he’d ever…. Jack tensed, eyes snapping open to stare at the smooth, muscled expanse of grey skin he was currently pressed against.

“Oh FUaarrgh-!” Valiant attempts to wrench free were thwarted when Pitch hissed sleepily, wrapping a second arm around the struggling boy’s chest and rolling over, coils shifting to wrap firmly around flailing legs.

“Shhh. S’early.”

Jack growled, shoving at the surrounding coils. “Let go! I need air! And space, lots of space!”

“No, mine!” The answering growl was far more menacing, and Jack squeaked as the coils around him tightened alarmingly.

“Ours, idiot.” A second pair of strong arms wrapped around Jack, tugging him free and away from his brother’s grip, ignoring the petulant hiss that followed.

Was this perpetual grabbiness an inherent trait in giant snake gods? Were they hatched with the need to adopt a small, warm-blooded mortal to hoist around and snuggle? Jack hung limply in Kozmotis’ grip, allowing the golden naga to settle back amidst the surrounding coils, a low rumble filling the cavern as he was pulled close, head tucked under a sharp chin.

Grumbling as a strong arm wound around his waist, Jack closed his eyes and focused on the hand Kozmotis was running soothingly down his spine and the warm, slightly spicy smell of his skin. At least this way he didn’t feel like he was going to be crushed if the deity holding him had a bad dream… How long did they intend to sleep anyway? Staying still had never been one of his strong points, especially if it meant being used as a human teddy bear! It wasn’t like he was going to be able to go back to sleep like this… Well, sure, it was warm and he was comfortable, but it didn’t matter how nice the golden naga smelled or how relaxing the constant rumble and gentle fingers on his spine were… He was not relaxing whilst being forced to rest on and beside two large, highly dangerous predators. Nope, if he got an opening to escape, he’d take it and really, what better time to escape when the two creatures holding him hostage him were asleep? If he could just work out how to get free without disturbing them… The hand on his spine slid higher, carding through his hair, claws scritching lightly against his scalp and causing him to hum… Yeah, escape. He’d just pretend to doze until both gods were asleep again and then he’d edge free and….

Jack jolted awake to distant birdsong (there were birds here?), freezing as hot breath washed over his collar bones. Oooookay… Clearly, positions had shifted slightly while he slept (damnit!) as he now had his chin resting on soft hair and a sleeping naga nuzzling his neck.

“Umm…” He swallowed, twitching slightly as Kozmotis hummed and drew back, blinking down at him slowly.

“Mmmn. Morning already?”

“Looks like it. Your time of the day is disgusting,” a grumpy reply carried over from somewhere behind Jack.

“Nnnh,” Jack’s gaze was immediately drawn by Kozmotis yawning, fangs glinting in the soft light of the cavern. “Breakfast time, then?”

Jack froze at that, heart pounding.

Kozmotis just sighed and shifted lazily, patting Jack’s arm. “Don’t fret, we’ll feed you too.”

Jack relaxed a bit, but frowned. Okay, so the things didn’t seem interested in eating or killing him (on purpose, at least), and they’d washed him, fed him, treated his injuries and cuddled him through the night. What exactly were they getting out of this sacrifice thing - Oh. “I’m a fucking pet, aren’t I?” Jack asked resignedly, still resting against Kozmotis.

“We haven’t done any f- ow!” Pitch stopped when Kozmotis uncurled an arm from around Jack and presumably used it to whack his counterpart.

“Well, actually, a better term would be ‘honored guest’…” Kozmotis replied placatingly, unwinding himself and Pitch from around Jack and placing the human back on level ground beside the nest.

“Guests are allowed to leave,” Jack muttered sullenly, crossing his arms and silently being glad that the nightshirt he’d been put in was long enough to fall almost to his knees. Though you know what would have been even better? A goddamn pair of pants. What did the universe have against him and pants?

“Yes, about that…” Pitch’s voice said from behind him, making Jack jump and whirl around. The things moved far too quickly and silently for such massive snakes. “Where exactly would you go, anyway? I mean, your homeland clearly doesn’t exist anymore, the only friends you’re likely to have are back in the place where you were enslaved and then sacrificed, and you don’t have so much as a penny to your name,” the dark naga mused, propping his chin up lazily on his hand. “So, if we were willing to take you back home, what location would you name as ‘home’? A city, where you can starve on the streets? The wilderness, where an animal might get you? Are those options really preferable?”

“I…” Jack bit his lip. There really wasn’t a place for him anywhere, was there? “You guys have lots of offerings; a couple of those things and I could at least make a start at a new life somewhere. Anywhere, really.”

“And why, exactly, would Gods gift a mortal that doesn’t worship them or want to be in their presence with anything at all, let alone with sacred offerings?” Both nagas watched him.

“…On a whim?” Jack tried.

Pitch smirked. “Gods are capricious, I’ll grant you, but it rarely works like that. Now come on, let’s get breakfast. I’m starving.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure all the food was safe for human consumption last night,” Kozmotis reassured Jack, ushering him out of the side cavern containing the nest and across the main cavern to the food laden table from the day before.

Jack sighed as he settled at a bench, an empty bowl and spoon placed in front of him before Kozmotis moved away. He toyed idly with his spoon and swung his legs, quietly considering his situation. He supposed things could be worse. The things weren’t actively interested in harming him and it was likely they’d lose interest before too long. Sooner or later their watch on him would slip and he’d be able to make a break for it. He could handle being some weird human lapdog for a while; he’d been in worse positi-

Jack looked up from his bowl in time to see Pitch pluck a live, squirming rat from a cage, tip his head back, and swallow it whole. The naga noticed the stare Jack was giving him, clicking his jaw back into place (how the hell had he opened his mouth that wide?!) and licking his lips as he drew out another. “Would you like one? They’re disease-free, and if you eat them live, the squirming helps digestion.”

“No thank you,” Jack squeaked, feeling a little ill. “I- um-”

“Humans prefer their meat dead and cooked Pitch, we’ve been through this,” Kozmotis said tiredly, slithering past and ladling what looked like porridge into Jack’s bowl from a larger one he carried.

“But living things are much more exciting.”

“Be that as it may, not everyone shares your preferences.”

“Well, they should,” Pitch muttered, lifting the rat by its tail to dangle it over his mouth, jaw stretching wide once more.

Jack looked down hurriedly before he had to witness another display, focusing on the food in his bowl. He poked at the porridge suspiciously with his spoon. The stew he vaguely remembered from last night hadn’t poisoned him, and Kozmotis did seem marginally more aware of human needs and what would and would not kill him, so it was probably safe. It smelled good at least and he was pretty hungry…

“Apple?” Pitch’s voice was clear, which suggested that he likely wasn’t in the midst of swallowing anything living, so Jack risked a glance. The naga held out a shiny red fruit expectantly.

“Yeah, considering the last encounter I had with involving you and fruit, I think I’ll pass,” Jack replied flatly.

There was a flash of annoyance in the naga’s eyes at that, but he relented. “Those weren’t even deadly,” Pitch grumbled, reluctantly placing the apple back down on a platter of assorted fruits.

“Yes, Pitch, so you’ve said,” Kozmotis rolled his eyes, absentmindedly wrapping the tip of his tail around a glass of amber juice and pushing it carefully towards Jack.

“No one can just let it go, can they?” Pitch muttered petulantly, crossing his arms.

Jack returned his attention to the food as the two Gods bickered above his head. Tentatively dipping his spoon into his bowl and trying a taste, he blinked before enthusiastically digging into the porridge. He’d thought the fuzzy memory of the delicious stew had been exaggerated due to being, quite literally, starving, but this food was incredible as well. Rich and creamy, sweetened with honey, liberally speckled with raisins and other dried fruit, and spiced lightly with cinnamon, the porridge was mouth-wateringly good. Granted, he hadn’t been given the best-tasting rations as a slave or anything, but this stuff compared favourably to the food his mom had made, before the…

Jack swallowed his last mouthful dryly, washing it down with some of the offered juice, and bit his lip. It had been a while since he’d thought about that. “…Hey, guys?” he started. “You said you knew the keeper of the underworld, were you serious? Have you been down there? Is it… nice?”

“It doesn’t matter, because you’re not going to go there anyway, so don’t- hey!” Pitch cut off when Kozmotis whapped him across the chest.

“It’s peaceful,” the golden naga supplied, his brother pouting and rubbing at his chest.

“Oh. That’s good,” Jack looked down at the table, pushing the now-empty bowl away.

“Someone close to you?” The tone was sympathetic.

“Heh,” Jack let out a humorless huff of breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Whole family, really. It was just dumb luck I didn’t end up… going with them. But it’s good to know they’re okay. Well, for a given definition of okay.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. …We weren’t lying about being on good terms with the gatekeeper, you know. If you wanted to visit th-”

“Koz! What if he-” Pitch hissed, interrupting.

“Then, that’s his choice” Kozmotis replied, meeting his counterpart’s eyes firmly. When Pitch looked away, the golden naga continued. “As I was saying, if you’d like, we could escort you down there for a few hours.”

Jack blinked, processing what he’d just heard. “I could… I could see them again?!”

“Yes, if it would help.”

He swallowed heavily and shifted his gaze from the wood grain of his empty bowl to the hovering naga.

“Ok…ok, that’s great, it really is, but, um…why? What’s the catch? I mean…” he rubbed a shaking hand across his face and ducked his head. “You said it…I  have nothing… and you already own me so what could I possibly give th-”

Two warm, strong hands clasped his shoulders, when did they move?

“Nothing, Jack.”

“You’re ours already-”

“-and as such, we would prefer you to-”

“-stay!”

“-be happy.”

Kozmotis stared pointedly at Pitch who hissed sulkily, both tightening their grip and squeezing Jack’s shoulders as he stared up at each brother.

“Yes,” At the soft response, twin golden gazes locked on his upturned face.

“Yes please. I’d like to… see my family again.”


	6. Chapter 6

Things moved quickly after that, Jack left alone with his thoughts as the nagas busied themselves with tidying up breakfast. He blinked when the used dishes on the table vanished at a casual wave of a claw tipped hand. Handy. Would have been nice to have them around during all those hours he’d been stuck on dish duty…

Jack swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, anxiousness fluttering in his stomach. He was going to see his family again, Mom and Dad and Emma and… He  closed his hands, shaking slightly; he’d missed them so much. It was almost unbelievable. It  _was_  unbelievable. He’d tried to avoid thinking about it as much as possible…he’d wanted to believe he’d see them again but it wasn’t like he had a guarantee. Now, he’d been told the Underworld was, in fact, a real place where the souls of the dead  _did_ reside there; that it was “peaceful” and that he could visit. He was still having a bit of trouble with that part…this wasn’t a neighbouring country or a foreign land, he was pretty sure the Land of the Dead was not a place people just popped into, and yet Pitch and Kozmotis were acting like wandering down into the Underworld was nothing more than an afternoon jaunt. Well…maybe for gods that’s what it was, did they do this regularly? Just pop down with baked goods and wine for a friendly chat about the weather? Did they even HAVE weather in the Underworld? The name indicated it was ‘under’ and he was certainly being ushered  towards a tunnel right now…

“Whoa, whoa, hold on. This is great and all but if I’m going to be seeing my family again, I’d like to be wearing pants,” Jack said, stopping abruptly.

Pitch blinked down at Jack. “Why? The gatekeeper certainly won’t mind. Are you cold?”

“I don’t have to be cold to want pants! I’d just prefer to be fully clothed when I see my family again, it’s not considered polite to mentally scar your younger siblings, you know.”

“Really? How boring… but if you insist.” With a shrug, he snapped his fingers.

Jack yelped as shadows suddenly swarmed up his legs, covering him from calf to waist before settling into something that felt cool, smooth, satin-y, and blessedly inanimate. “Uh…” Jack quickly decided against asking for a different shirt. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, and they headed into the tunnel.

The passage gradually widened out as they descended deeper, and the smooth stones of the floor gave way to fine gravel that crunched underfoot, the only sound in the place aside from Jack’s breathing and the rustle of scales from the two nagas flanking him. Wisps of silvery-grey mist began to filter through the air, becoming thicker as they pressed onwards. It didn’t take long before Jack could no longer see the walls or ceiling of the tunnel, the mist now so thick and heavy that seeing more than a few feet in any direction was impossible. Strangely, there was no chill, no sensation of moisture on his skin or breath of air that stirred the depths, no real sense of temperature and no ambient noises. If not for the way Jack was rubbing his thumb nervously over his curled fingers and the slight give of the gravel beneath his feet, Jack would have sworn that his entire body had somehow gone numb, even the sounds of his companions were muffled. The near-total deprivation of sight, sound, and touch was unnerving, to say the least.

Jack swallowed. “Uh, guys? About this Gatekeeper… what is it?” he asked, almost reluctant to break the near-total silence and relieved when his voice actually did carry through the air.

Kozmotis glanced down at him, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… It’s kind of hard to say, really. They’re sort of… variable.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“They’re a bit of an odd person, really. Although very dependable,” Pitch added. “After all, they’re the single guarantee that people have in life.”

Jack eyed the mists in front of them anxiously, biting his lip. “Uh, yeah, that’s great, but what I was really asking is if it’s some kind of horrific mons-”

“Hello there, long time no see!” a cheery, unfamiliar voice rang out as a dark shape emerged from the mists.

Jack yelped and ducked behind Pitch reflexively, peering tentatively out from around the naga’s black coils.

There was a young boy standing a few yards away from them. He couldn’t have been older than eight, with mousy brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles, dressed in plain, undyed clothes. A smile that showed off a missing front tooth faded when his gaze shifted from the twins to Jack. The boy cocked his head to one side and blinked. “You’re not supposed to be here yet, mister.”

Jack stared, confused. “Wha-”

“He’s our guest,” Kozmotis interrupted. “Here to visit, for a few hours.”

“Wait, you mean this kid is the Gatekeeper of the Underworld?” Jack asked. The kid didn’t even feel creepy or anything. He was probably the least intimidating thing in the surrounding area, including Jack himself and that weird mist. Pitch just stared down at him blankly, as if he didn’t know what Jack was talking about.

The boy laughed lightly, smile reappearing. “Yep! Nice t’meet you.”

“Uh, yeah. Likewise,” Jack said tentatively, easing away from Pitch. “Sorry, I just kind of-”

“Thought I’d be scarier?” The kid shrugged. “I’m not supposed to stop people from coming in, just getting out. But I can bend the rules a bit for you. Come on!”  He turned around and waved a hand for Jack to follow him, heading out into the mists once more.

Jack glanced up at Kozmotis and Pitch, who shooed him forwards encouragingly. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, following the kid further into the mist. The brown-haired boy fell back to walk next to Jack, humming a soft tune. A few moments later a building loomed out of the mists, a house that made Jack’s breath catch in his throat. It was… home. Not the charred husk he’d been dragged away from after the invasion, but the house that he had grown up in, right down to the notches in the doorframe that marked his and Emma’s growth over the years. Jack pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide, vision blurring slightly at the edges.

The boy stopped before the door, tilting his head back to smile up at Jack. “We’re here. Have fun!” Jack blinked to clear his eyes and the boy was suddenly just… gone. No fanfare, no lights or smoke, just the swirling mists, like he had never been.

Jack swallowed and stepped forwards to grasp the doorknob with a shaky hand. He turned it, pulling the door open in one smooth move before he had time to freak himself out wondering what was behind it.

“Jack!” a voice cried, and suddenly there was a small person flinging themselves at him and clinging to his waist.

“Emma?” Jack breathed, almost afraid to believe it until she looked up and flashed the same smile he remembered from what felt like yesterday. “Emma!” he repeated, stooping to wrap her up in a hug before straightening, lifting her feet from the ground and burying his nose in her hair. “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, Jack.”

“Well, we know who’s the favorite here now, don’t we?” a wry voice made Jack’s head snap up.

“Mom! Dad!” Jack placed Emma back on the floor and quickly found himself swept up into two pairs of arms, held tightly. “Is it ever good to see you,” he said, voice a little shaky.

“It really is,” his mother agreed. They stood wrapped up around each other, Emma stepping forward and joining in, for several long moments before Jack’s father ruffled Jack’s hair and they let go, still standing close.

“You’ve grown a lot, kiddo,” a lean, messy-haired man said, stepping forwards. He looked to be about forty and wore a ratty deerskin jacket, and Jack had no idea who he was.

“Uh…” Jack started, but then the man flashed a crooked grin and recognition dawned, memories of quick witted remarks and sugared lemon drops flitting through his mind. “Grandpa Errol!”

He chuckled and pulled Jack into another hug. “Not exactly how you remember me, eh?  Well, you were just little when I died. Your grandma’s here too, and your other set of grandparents, and most of the folks from the town and about twenty generations of Frosts and Overlands, heh. It’s a madhouse most days, you have no idea. We figured we shouldn’t overwhelm you right yet.”

Jack laughed, feeling lighter than he had in years. “Are you kidding me? Who do you think you’re dealing with here, gramps? I wanna see everyone! Are all the stories about great-great Uncle Rick true?”

“You have no idea, kid,” Errol replied, shaking his head.

The house quickly became too small to hold them all, more and more people appearing to reacquaint or introduce themselves and they  spilled out of the front door and into an outside that had somehow become the sunny, grassy clearing that used to exist outside of their home. Games, conversations, stories, jokes and songs blended into one another as Jack bounced around the gathering excitedly, elated at the reunion and being able to talk to everyone again. After a while, he flopped back onto the bench that ran along the front of the house with a sigh, wiping his forehead. “Wow.”

“Mhm, it’s nice here. Are you all right, though, Jack? We worried about you,” Emma asked, sitting down beside him.

Jack glanced backwards for a second, just in time to see a flash of gold and black scales vanish between the trees on the outskirts of the gathering. He looked back to his sister, who was gazing in the same direction and wrapped an arm around her, pulling  her up against his side, and smiling. “You know what squirt? I think I am.”

She leant into him, solid and warm.

“They’re with you, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They’re worried I’ll want to stay.”

They watched the trees in silence, Jack soaking up the laughter and voices, allowing these sounds to replace the last ones he’d heard.

“So…what do you want to do?”

He grinned, giving one last squeeze of his arm before hopping back to his feet and sweeping his smiling sister a bow.

“Well sister mine, have you ever met a naga?”


	7. Chapter 7

Jack took Emma by the hand and led her into the trees, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. She skipped along at his side, warm fingers laced with his as she swung their arms to and fro, giggling and pushing back when he jostled her with his hip.

And then Pitch decided to swing down from an overhanging tree branch; long, sinuous body still partially wrapped around the trunk, limb creaking under its load as he uncoiled, upside down, to loom in front of them. “Geh!” Jack exclaimed, jerking Emma backwards and recoiling.

Pitch paid his reaction no mind, crossing his arms and drumming the claws of one hand against his opposite forearm. “Well? Are you ready to go yet?” he demanded. Golden eyes shifted to the small girl currently eyeing his gravity-defying hair from where she was clutched against her brother’s chest and blinked. “We can’t take her with us.”

“Don’t do th-....how are you doing that with your hair?!” Jack waved a hand at the black naga’s slicked-back hair.

“I’m a god,” Pitch shrugged. “And also perfect.”

A heavy sigh and a rumbled “Why me?” from the left and Kozmotis slithered out of the woods, dragging careful claws down his face. “You’ll have to excuse him, my lady,” the golden naga said, shooting a glare at his still upside-down twin. “He hatched without manners, and I have yet to find a way to beat any into him. You must be Jack’s sister. My name is Kozmotis. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he dipped a bow, one large hand extending to offer the surprised girl a delicate golden flower.

Emma stared up at the lighter naga in awe, tentatively stepping away from her brother to accept the proffered flower, completely missing the irritated glare as Pitch stuck out a forked tongue at his brother and muttered “Suck-up.”

“Hey, how come she gets polite introductions and gifts and I get the ‘fear us mortal, for we are great and powerful gods!’ first impression?” Jack asked, waving at the flower now tucked carefully behind his sister’s ear.

"Well, I wanted to grace your nest with my presence, but he wouldn’t let me,” Pitch retorted, pointing at Kozmotis and uncoiling further. The branch groaned, Pitch slithering free in a shower of green and golden leaves.

“It’s called a family, Pitch. And terrifying them would be invasive and counter-productive,” Kozmotis sighed. “To be fair, Jack, that was more for the priest’s benefit than yours. And aside from that, this isn’t our domain. We hold sway over elements of the mortal world, not here. So we couldn’t even if we wanted to.”

“Hey! They don’t need to know that!”

Emma tugged on Jack’s sleeve to make him stoop lower and whispered in his ear. “They’re weird.”

Jack snorted. “You don’t know the half of it, sis.”

Small fingers traced the petals of her new hair ornament “I don’t think it’s a bad weird, though.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Jack replied with a smile. “And also their scales feel pretty neat! Come on.” Jack drew her towards Kozmotis, who was once again occupied arguing with his brother. The naga only noticed that the two humans had moved when Jack and Emma both ran their hands along his flank, tracing his scales and making him jerk in surprise.

“Ah! That tickles!” Coils shifted, tail arching to expose the black scales of his underbelly to their clever, inquisitive fingers.

Jack chuckled at Kozmotis’s startled look, sitting back on his haunches to watch as Emma continued to pet the golden scales, giggling as the naga moved, lifting and curling his coils into arches and loops for her to follow.

“And just what makes your scales so worthy of attention?” Pitch slithered over and around his brother, glaring down into startled, brown eyes and reaching out with the tip of his tail to prod at the girl.

“Pitch…”

The black naga pulled back, hissing sulkily at his brother’s warning rumble. “Fine, you can keep the girl, she obviously has appalling taste!” Jack yelped in surprise when Pitch lunged, scooping him from the ground and wrapping around him. “Unlike her brother. He appreciates my grace and majesty.” Settling back into his coils, Pitch tucked Jack’s head up under his chin, rumbling happily as he shot his brother a smug look.

“Hey, no stop that! Pitch, damnit-” Jack squirmed.

Pitch shifted, adjusting his hold on the struggling boy and freeing his arm. “You may admire my scales, Jack.”

“What?!” Incredulous blue eyes stared into smug gold.

“Humans are drawn to touch what they find impressive, yes? Well, you have my permission to touch my scales as much as you like.”

“Gee thanks, but I think I’ll pass!” The teen flailed, pushing at the smooth chest he was pressed against and straining to free his legs.

Emma stood back, hand resting against warm golden scales as she watched the bizarre sight, snickering when her brother wriggled free only to be snagged and dragged back into the middle of the surrounding coils. “Your brother is funny.”

“That’s nicer than the word I would choose to describe him.”

“I can hear you, Kozmotis!”

“In fact,” Kozmotis ignored his brother, glancing down at the girl beside him. “I’m quite sure he’s adopted.”

“We were born from the same egg, you twit,” Pitch muttered sulkily, suddenly letting go of Jack. Not expecting the sudden lack of resistance, Jack overbalanced and tumbled out of Pitch’s clutches and down onto the grass. The dark naga turned away from the rest of them and sank down among his coils despondently. “Fine, whatever. Ooh and aah over Koz. Ignore me completely. Not like it matters, the Gatekeeper isn’t going to let us take Jack out if he doesn’t want to go and he’s not going to want to leave and coming here was stupid.”

“Wow, dramatic, much?” Jack remarked, getting back to his feet and brushing leaves from his pants. Pitch’s only response was to pull his long body closer, drawing in on himself, his torso all but invisible among the shifting black scales. Jack rolled his eyes. “And I haven’t said I want to stay here yet.”

The soft sound of shifting scales stopped as Pitch seemed to freeze, and Jack assumed that was because he was listening.

“I mean, you guys are really bizarre and kind of scary and you need to learn what personal space is, but I don’t think I’m ready to give up on life in general yet. I’d… I’d like to have good stories to tell Emma about when I come back. I’d like to have more experiences, to see new things and have fun. And you guys don’t seem too bad. So if I can come back here sometimes, visit with my friends and family who are here, I’ll… go back with you.”

Black coils twitched, lifting slightly as a golden eye peered out through the gap. “Really?”

“Well, there’s a few more conditions and ground rules that need to be set down, too. If you’ll listen to me and we can compromise, then yeah. I’ll stick around with you two.”

The gap vanished as Pitch moved, straightening from his depressed slouch and slithering lazily around the white-haired teen. Stopping just past Jack’s shoulder, Pitch studied his claws before glancing over at Kozmotis and sharing a long, silent look.

“That is acceptable.” Pitch smirked. “I’m sure we will be happy with any compromises that you make.”

Jack crossed his arms. “Compromises we make, you mean.”

“Semantics.” The darker naga waved a hand dismissively.

“What he means is that we will endeavour to ensure all parties involved are happy with the arrangements.” Koz glided closer, bending to rest a large hand on the young man’s shoulder. “We’ll be happy to escort you down here whenever you feel the need to see your family. We meant what we said earlier, we want you to be happy.”

“Yes, happy. With us, forever,” Pitch ignored his brother’s exasperated glare, focusing on Emma as she tentatively ran her hand along his tail, tracing the line of scales where the black blended into the gold of his underbelly. He nudged her towards another stretch of smooth skin, hissing happily as she continued her petting.

Emma looked over at her brother, grinning as he rolled his eyes. “They seem to really like you, Jack. Are you sure they know you very well?” she asked innocently.

Jack tilted his head up and sniffed. "I am a delight," he replied haughtily.

"Well, if you've found some people willing to put up with you, they're weirder than I thought." Emma shifted her gaze to the two looming gods, who were looking down at her with raised eyebrows. "But if you think they'll be nice, I guess I can allow it."

Pitch's eyes narrowed. "Allow? I am-"

"Shh!" Kozmotis interrupted him, clawed hand catching the back of his brother’s head and forcing him to join him in sweeping another bow. "Thank you for your consideration, my lady."

Pitch smacked the offending hand away, snarling at his unfazed twin before crossing his arms and pouting, though his scowl lessened when Emma resumed petting his tail.

"Well, you got her seal of approval. I suppose that means I'll give this a go," Jack said, and erased the scowl entirely. He held up a hand when the tell-tale signs of Pitch shifting gears into pounce mode appeared instead. "Ah-ah. First, I'm going to go say goodbye to everyone, and THEN we are laying down the ground rules. Agreed?"

Pitch sighed, straightening and folding his hands casually behind his back. "Yes, alright, fine."

“Good. Come on, Emma. Let’s go see Mom and Dad. You two stay here,” Jack took his sister by the hand, leading her back towards their house. He glanced backwards at the edge of the trees to see both nagas still where he had left them, watching them both intently. “Huh, what’d’ya know, they actually listened to me,” Jack murmured to himself, before turning back around and heading out to see his family.

A couple dozen goodbyes later, the extended family headed off to… somewhere else, strolling away into the mist that had started to gather around the once familiar home, leaving just the four of them.

“It was great seeing you guys again. Amazing, really, getting to make more happy memories to replace, you know,” Jack said, his voice wavering just a bit as he smiled at his family. “I… I’ll be back soon, to see you again.”

“Okay, Jack. Just don’t come here to stay. Not for a long time, at least,” his mother replied as she cupped his face with one hand, gently tracing his cheek with her thumb. “Not that we don’t want to see you, but…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jack said warmly, closing his eyes briefly as he leant into her touch before pulling her into a hug.

Jack’s father stepped up, reaching out to place a heavy hand on his son’s head and ruffling his unruly hair. “Stay out of trouble while you’re out and about, kid.”

“No promises about that one,” he replied with a laugh, ducking to escape the hand.

“I raised a rascal,” the older man sighed, but he hugged Jack anyway.

“Have fun,” Emma said, lastly, as Jack knelt down to hold her, clinging tightly, face buried against his shoulder before she laughed and stepped back.

“I’ll do my best.” Jack stood, grinning at his family as the silvery mist swirled closer, obscuring the surrounding area. “Goodbye, guys. Love you.”

“Love you too, Jack!”

The house and Jack’s family vanished, swallowed by the encroaching mist as the un-place Jack assumed was the normal Underworld returned. He scrubbed his eyes quickly with his sleeve, breathing deeply, before turning to meet the nagas moving through the mist towards him. “Let’s go back, guys.”


	8. Chapter 8

When they emerged from the tunnel connecting the twin’s lair to the Underworld, Jack stumbled, momentarily thrown by the sudden return of colour, sound and feeling. After the numbness of the Underworld mists, even the muted colours and sounds of the passageway seemed vibrant and overwhelming, forcing the young man to blink repeatedly. Two warm hands steadied him as he shook his head, clearing the last of the disorientation. At least this transition was smoother than when he’d been removed from the mountain plateau, the lack of nausea was definitely a plus.

Once he was sure Jack was steady on his feet, Pitch sighed and stretched happily. “Home at last…” He snapped his fingers and Jack’s shadowy pants suddenly dissolved, rising from his skin in wisps and leaving him standing in nothing but a (thankfully long) shirt again.

“Whoa! Don’t do that!” Jack exclaimed, tugging down the hem reflexively. At least he hadn’t rolled the garment up, so it functioned more like a tunic. He knew not asking for a new shirt had been a good idea!

Pitch blinked at the human. “Why not? Your family isn’t here, so there’s no reason to cover up.”

“That’s not why- ergh,” Jack retorted exasperatedly. He dragged a hand down his face and heaved a sigh. “Okay, ground rule number one - I get to have pants. And I get to wear those pants whenever I want.”

“Whenever? But-”

“Nope, non-negotiable. I’ve had enough running around in non-clothing to last a lifetime.”

Pitch grumbled. “Whenever you want to, is that it?” he asked pensively. “So, if for some reason you _didn’t_ want to…”

“And no mind control,” Jack added flatly, not liking the contemplative look on Pitch’s face.

“We can’t do that anyway,” Kozmotis replied. “Not that we would, even if it were possible. Right, Pitch?”

“Of course not. It wouldn’t be any fun that way,” Pitch replied, tone offended.

... _What_ exactly wouldn’t be any fun, Jack wondered. “ _And_ I get to pick out my own pants,” he added.

Pitch sputtered. “Oh come on!”

Kozmotis sighed. “If Jack can make the final choice, but we can make suggestions, would that be acceptable for both of you?”

“Hmph. If that’s how it has to be,” Pitch muttered, crossing his arms.

“Sure. I’ll treat all the suggestions with the consideration that they deserve,” Jack agreed, smirking at the dark naga. “So can I see the clothes you’ve got now?”

“Now?”

“I’d like to be fully clothed for the rest of the talk.”

Pitch and Kozmotis exchanged a look, then uncoiled and slithered onwards, leading Jack back to the main chamber and over to the baskets and cabinets still gathered together from their initial search. The nagas hovered as the young man dug through the collection, offering a running commentary as each new garment was pulled free, examined and discarded.

Eventually Jack settled on a pair of deerskin pants, rather tattered but still warm and comfortable. Clearly, the garment had been well loved, the leather soft and subtle, clean despite its previous use. Jack doubted the owner had wanted to give them up but supposed the person hadn’t had a choice, whatever the reason behind this particular offering, the white-haired boy was grateful. Sadly, Pitch hadn’t felt the same way. The dark naga had hissed when the pants were pulled free, incensed at the state of the garment and launching into a rant about believers that would dare offer up such clearly worn and unrefined gifts to their gods. Jack just rolled his eyes, slinging the pants over his shoulder as he finished checking the remaining baskets, listening with half an ear as Kozmotis mollified his brother by pointing out that the giver was no doubt long dead by now, given the passing of time.

Once it became clear Jack seemed to have settled on the deerskin, both nagas attempted to change his mind, suggesting again some of the fancier, daintier (and shorter) pants the youth had already discarded. Any and all objections vanished as Jack slipped the leather garment on, twisting and turning to examine himself in a ridiculously expensive-looking mirror leaning against one of the pillars, previously hidden by another hanging fur.

The brothers watched silently as Jack fidgeted with his shirt, still hanging well past his waist and approaching his knees. Crouching quickly, he dug back through a pile of clothing, pulling a deep blue shirt free and holding it up to examine the silky material. Shucking his current shirt, Jack dropped it to the floor before pulling his new find over his head, smoothing the cool material over his chest and turning to examine his appearance in the mirror again, pleased with the way the blue silk fitted, the front and back still a little longer than he was used to but higher at the sides, leaving his legs free to move without hindrance.

The twins shared a long look as Jack finished adjusting his new outfit, ensuring that the slight split at the front of his shirt ran down the middle of his chest before dropping into a series of quick stretches to ensure his pants really were as comfy as they first seemed. Jack looked up from his crouch, arms resting lightly across his knees and quirking an eyebrow at the rather intense stares he was receiving. With one final assessing sweep, the gods agreed that the choice was acceptable. Jack would take what he could get.

“Okay, next point: I refuse to eat anything related to your gardening experiments,” Jack said to Pitch, settling into a comfortable, cross-legged position on a large cushion he’d dragged free from a pile near one of the walls.

Pitch frowned. “But they’re not all-”

“Nope, don’t care. Either you keep your pet projects off my plate or I’m sitting with Koz every meal.”

“...so if I keep my experiments separate, you’ll sit with me instead? Deal!” Pitch agreed with a wide grin, winding his coils in a loose circle around Jack’s cushion before settling comfortably.

“What?! No, that’s not-“

“Ah-ah, no changes once we’ve agreed~”

“I’m sure it’s not that difficult for all of us to sit together. You know, like we’ve done for the last few eons, Pitch,” Kozmotis retorted, winding his coils around Jack’s resting place from the other direction, gold and black scales intertwining as he settled, shoulder to shoulder with his brother.

“Well, you never know, Jack might want some solitude. With me,” Pitch replied with a smirk.

“That wouldn’t count as solitude,” Kozmotis replied exasperatedly.

“I don’t see why it can’t!”

“Whatever. As long as I’m not being fed anything that either of you have messed with, I don’t really care who I’m sitting with,” Jack injected, leaning against the coils at his back.

The two nagas looked down at him. “Very well, none of your food will be inherently altered by our abilities,” Kozmotis agreed.

“Great! Point three; I get my own bed,” Jack stated, moving on.

Kozmotis shrugged. “That seems-”

“You already have your own bed,” Pitch interrupted him. “You stayed there last night, remember?”

“No, that’s _your_ bed,” Jack replied flatly, and nearly choked when everything around him rippled and they found themselves suddenly in the nest instead of beside the clothing piles in the main chamber.

“Oh no, you see, _this_ part is our bed, _that_ part is your bed,” Pitch said, gesturing helpfully.

“....”

“....”

Jack shared an incredulous look with Kozmotis, finally breaking their stunned silence. “So what you’re saying is that the middle of your bed is my bed?” he ventured.

“Yes. So, are we done with this foolishness yet-”

Kozmotis smacked the back of his brother’s head, earning a hiss from Pitch, who whirled on him with fangs bared. Jack sighed, extracting himself from the soft pillows, furs and shifting coils, slipping from the side chamber and locating his previous pillow as he waited for the resulting scuffle to finish.

Kozmotis smoothed his hair back down as he approached Jack, purposefully ignoring his twin as they both slithered back across the smooth stone floor to take up position around the cushion again. “We agree to your request Jack, you shall have your own bed.”

Pitch, looking put out, sighed. “But what if he doesn’t like it? If you don’t like it, you have to sleep in our nest, yes?” He stared down at the young man earnestly.

Jack rolled his eyes. “If for some strange reason I don’t like sleeping in my own bed, then yes.”

“Very well. We’ll get your bed set up. After dinner,” Kozmotis said, gesturing for Jack to follow before leading them back to the dining area on the other side of the huge, inner chamber.

After the (thankfully uneventful) meal, Jack was ushered into a relatively small room filled with books, scrolls, parchments and carved slabs, told to occupy himself, and promptly shut in. Of course, none of the writing was in a language he could read, and he could have sworn that one of the books _growled_ at him when he tried to take it off the shelf. He’d decided rather quickly that his pursuit of the written word could wait,  opting instead to pass the time by climbing up the bookshelves and wandering along the tops, examining the carvings on the ceiling and writing rude words and doodles in the dust that had gathered along the upper walls. Hey, if things that were tall enough to easily reach the highest points of the room still couldn’t be bothered to dust, then they were really the ones responsible for whatever graffiti Jack decided to draw.

Later, well past when the moon must have risen, the two gods returned to find Jack lounging along the top of one bookshelf, examining a map he’d found in an upper alcove (one that hadn’t hissed menacingly when touched) and simultaneously panicked about Jack having climbed up so high, about the dangers of traipsing around without anyone there to catch him, about being careful and _no no no don’t climb down let us carry you don’t scare us like that_!

Jack sighed as he was carefully set on the ground by a pair of bronze hands. “It’s not _that_ high up, jeez. And what happened to all that ‘oh don’t worry if you die Jack, we can just pop down to the Underworld and take you out again’ stuff, hm?”

“That…was different,” Pitch replied.

“Oh, so it’s okay if _you_ kill me?”

“No, it’s because it’s more likely you’ll do yourself harm. Humans are fallible. Gods are not,” Pitch retorted, crossing his arms.

Jack stared at him. “Really. You’re really going to claim that. After what I’ve seen and been through in _one day_ ,” Jack said flatly.

Pitch looked away, muttering something petulant and indecipherable. Kozmotis sighed. “Jack… Just be careful, please? While we _can_ retrieve you, we would rather you didn’t suffer any unnecessary pain.”

“Ok, I’ll be careful by my standards,” Jack replied. “Can’t promise more than that.”

“...Very well,” Kozmotis relented, after a lengthy pause. Pitch didn’t say anything, continuing to stare poisonously at a wall off to the left. Jack had a feeling the subject hadn’t been dropped completely. “We finished your bed, if you would like to come see it.” Kozmotis gently redirected the conversation.

“Okay. Not sure why you felt the need to keep me cooped up in here while you were making it, though,” Jack remarked, following the nagas out of the room.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Pitch answered, still sounding less than happy.

And it certainly was. Minutes later, now back in the side chamber that contained the nest, Jack stared at his new ‘bed’. “Seriously?”

The two nagas glanced down, then back to the new bed, set up beside their own nest.

“Is something wrong, Jack?” Kozmotis asked.

“Is it the colour? I told him you wouldn’t like gold!” Pitch sounded vindicated.

“It’s a cage.”

“Yes? We thought humans liked to feel secure when they slept.” Kozmotis replied, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Pitch.

“You want me to sleep in a cage?”

“No, we want you to sleep with u-“ Pitch stopped when Koz elbowed him.

“We thought this was preferable to a basket. I assure you the pillows are very soft.”

Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I take it back, the nest is fine.”

“Wonderful!” Pitch trilled. He took a hold of Jack’s hands and gently tugged him towards the nest.

Jack sighed and allowed himself to be guided down into the shallow depression filled with soft pillows, furs and silks. He hadn’t finished laying down his ground rules, but it had been a long day, he was tired, and he figured his last request had better be made when he was fully rested and could argue his case coherently.

The three of them settled slowly into the bedding, fluffing and rearranging the pillows and furs as required, Jack surprised to find the experience less than scary, considering he was being pulled down to lie prone between two inhuman creatures that nuzzled up close to him while their bone-crushingly powerful tails twined around Jack’s legs and each other. There had hardly been any internal screaming at all. Once they were comfortable, Jack actually felt pretty calm, even safe, the warm press of smooth muscle and smooth scales reassuring rather than confining. He wasn’t sure if his new frame of mind was because he knew where he’d go if he died, or because his instincts were starting to get used to Pitch and Kozmotis.

“There. It’s so much better to sleep together, isn’t it?” Pitch sighed, resting his chin against the top of Jack’s head.

“I- uh-” Jack stammered, blind-sided as the phrase’s other connotation suddenly blazed through his mind. Did they want to- They clearly didn’t have human lower halves, how would that even work? Did snakes have- well, normal snakes reproduced somehow, so Jack supposed they had some sort of… equipment, but…

Despite Jack’s internal flailings, neither Pitch nor Kozmotis made any moves to rid Jack of his clothes and their touches remained firm, gentle and comforting, holding Jack close but not moving into anything more intimate. Soon enough, their breathing slowed, evening out as the limbs draped around him grew slack, and Jack was left blushing awkwardly in the dark.

He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not.


	9. Chapter 9

Morning was, once again, a disorienting affair, but at least this time he’d slept in, missing the pre-dawn birdsong that had woken him the previous day, comfortable enough that not even the stirring of his bedmates had disturbed him. This meant he woke to a large, clawed hand gently shaking his shoulder, rather than warm breath and sharp fangs pressing against the front and back of his neck, so that was a good start...it improved even more when he realised the soft, doe-skin pants he’d chosen the day before had not been a dream. As much as he disliked rules and restrictions, he’d been “free” in the pants department for long enough.

He rolled over when the hand on his shoulder retreated, stretching sleep-cramped muscles and yawning hugely. Blue eyes blinked open, their owner freezing under the intense golden gaze currently inches from his own.

“Uuhh…Good morning?”

“Hardly, it’s far too bright, no clouds or rain at all and Koz won’t let me summon any!” Pitch pulled back, slithering to the edge of the nest as Jack struggled to free himself from the silk and furs.

“Right. Of course, it’s not like people like the sun or anything.” Jack rolled his eyes at the hovering naga.

“I’ve said the same for centuries Jack, but I’m afraid there’s no convincing Koz.” Pitch released a long-suffering sigh as he led the way from the sleeping chamber, oblivious to the boy’s incredulous stare.

Shaking his head, Jack  rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand, using the other to smooth at the creases left in the silk of his shirt, as he followed Pitch across the floor, spotting Kozmotis bustling (and wasn’t that the weirdest image) around the breakfast table. The young man settled on the low bench, accepting the stone cup of golden apple juice that Kozmotis passed him and taking a grateful sip before placing it down gently and taking a deep breath.

"Okay, I have one more rule.” The nagas paused in the act of preparing breakfast to stare intently at the tousle-haired young man currently examining his cup. “I want to be able to go on field trips to more places than just the Underworld. The mortal plane, or whatever you call it, has a lot of cool places and I'd like to visit them. I don't want to spend the rest of my life cooped up in this place...Nice as it is," Jack added as an afterthought, looking up and gesturing to the cavernous chamber they were currently seated within.

Pitch and Kozmotis exchanged a look, Jack watching them quietly. Kozmotis was the first to speak.

"Jack, this is..."

"We have already made a great deal of concessions for you, Jack," Pitch broke in, circling the table in agitation. "You will already be leaving here quite frequently when you go to visit your family. Isn't that enough?"

"On top of that, you’ve had a great deal of harrowing experiences whilst alone in the mortal plane. Why would you want to return there? You're safer here," Kozmotis added, sounding confused.

"It's not all bad. There's a lot of good in it..."  Jack mumbled, looking down again. "And I… I swear I won't try to escape. I don't have anywhere to go, remember? And it's not like you guys couldn't drag me back even if I tried."

There was a long pause at that, broken only by the sounds of the nagas' tails shifting restlessly.

Kozmotis heaved a sigh. "We will... consider it. At the equinox, perhaps. We could visit one of the festivals, go with you for the first time."

Pitch grumbled, crossing his arms. "If we feel like it's appropriate at the time, that is. And you have to wear _this_ every time you go out,"  he produced a pendant and chain from thin air, dangling it in front of the human’s nose. Jack reached out tentatively, steadying the pendent as he examined it but refusing to accept it immediately. As expected, the craftsmanship was exquisite - a thumbnail-sized chip of stone that seemed to absorb all light, grasped between a pair of silver claws which bled together at the top of the stone to form a loop resembling the scaled tail of a snake, held on a delicate silver chain.

Jack eyed it suspiciously, prodding the stone with the tip of his finger. "What does it do?"

"It's an Obscure Amulet, something of my own invention. It... Here, let me show you." Pitch pulled the pendant back and draped it around his own neck.

Jack felt a slight twinge of vertigo, and suddenly it was as if the darker naga wasn't there anymore. He hadn't vanished, Jack was still aware that there was _someone_ occupying the spot where Pitch had been, but it seemed to be someone vaguely human-shaped and utterly unremarkable. They had hair, eyes and a face and were clearly wearing clothes, but Jack couldn’t have described the colour, shape or look of any of it, even though he was staring right at them.

"It's very handy for passing among people unnoticed," the person Jack was staring at said in a voice that was neither male or female, though the smug, amused tone it carried was all Pitch. The figure shifted, lifting some sort of plain, indistinct necklace over their head and suddenly Pitch was back, holding the silver-black amulet in one a clawed, grey hand.

Jack blinked rapidly. "That was... weird," he said, running a hand through his hair before rubbing at his eyes. "Did you actually change, or....?"

"No, it just alters people's perceptions. No one will be able to recognize or identify you, if you wear this."

"Uh-huh. And you want me to wear that, why?"

"Because you're _ours_! No living mortal should be allowed to look upon you," Pitch replied, rearing up to his full height, the tip of his tail twitching in ire, presumably at the thought of some _‘mere mortal’_ daring to trespass upon his property in _any_ way.

Kozmotis glanced away sheepishly when Jack shifted his gaze to him and raised an eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. "Yes, the amulet must be worn on all your outings. For your own protection, as well as our peace of mind! You're very distinctive-looking, and standing out can be dangerous for mortals…as you should know by now."

Jack was forced to admit that his albinism and generally unique looks had indeed already caused him grief. “And I’ll attract _less_ attention by looking like a bizarre unidentifiable being?” he asked, dubiously.

“People’s expectations should fill in the gaps. They’ll see the sort of person they expect to see in their current setting,” Pitch replied, idly twirling the amulet around his finger. “Most would only notice something amiss if they tried comparing how different people viewed you.”

Jack sighed. At least if they were setting down ultimatums, it meant that they were planning to allow him back down (or up?) to the mortal world at some point, right? "Okay. I'll wear the amulet thing."

"Good." Pitch settled back into his coils, seemingly satisfied, as Kozmotis returned to gathering items for the meal. "Now, we have a few conditions of our own. You can explore the main cavern as you like, but be wary of unfamiliar objects; I've moved most of the dangerous items elsewhere, but you never know. Always ask if you're not sure." He waited for Jack to nod his agreement.

"Second, you can come back to the nest room at any time, but don't take any of the other tunnels for now. I've put wards on them, so you shouldn't be able to get through anyway. We'll show you where some of them go later," Kozmotis picked up where his brother had left off.

"And third, you need to learn how to swim." Both Pitch and Kozmotis watched him expectantly.

“What? Why?” Jack asked, gut twisting a little at the memory of the last time he’d been in water.

“Well, there are lots of bodies of water in the mortal realm, for one. Besides, we can’t have you in the hot springs if you don’t know how to swim; if you fell in when we weren’t around…” Pitch trailed off.

“Well, you know, I think that’s a room that I’m good with not being allowed in,” Jack replied, face paling slightly.

Kozmotis rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, if you’re willing to have us wash you every time…”

Oh. Right. The privacy thing. Jack bit his lip, studying the wood grain of the table. “...Alright, fine. I’ll try to learn. Just…maybe in a less deep pool this time?” The look he shot them was pleading.

“Certainly. We’ll be happy to help teach you,” Pitch replied with a fanged smile.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact I’ll have to be out of my pants for these lessons, would it?”

“We’re merely looking out for your safety,” Kozmotis replied, swatting his brother with a serving spoon before he could respond and pushing a bowl of porridge across the table towards Jack

* * *

 

Much to Jack’s relief, the two gods seemed to have other matters to attend to, and did not immediately drag him to a pool of water to commence the swimming lessons. Instead, they excused themselves, (“Honestly, we’d rather spend more time making you feel at home but the last time we left our believers unsupervised they developed an unhealthy fascination with comets and decided to off themselves…the mushrooms probably didn’t help.”) and left Jack to his own devices as he settled into his new home.

Now that he was no longer terrified, injured, starving, or half-naked, Jack felt he could appreciate his surroundings a lot more. The main cavern of the temple was even more massive than he’d thought, and it was pretty damn cool, he had to admit. There were relics of all kinds scattered around the area, statues and jewellery and art so beautiful it took his breath away. Though not literally, thankfully. (Jack hoped that his hosts would have removed any paintings that would actually asphyxiate him, but you never knew.) He avoided anything that looked fragile or had sharp edges, but his restraint ran low when he got to a pile of musical instruments. Particularly the massive gong that had a mallet hanging from a hook next to it.

He grinned and pulled the mallet down, winding up and driving it into the giant metal disk. The enormous, reverberating _bboooonnngggg_ completely swallowed Jack’s excited whoop.

“Jack?” A voice called from somewhere, sounding concerned.

Jack grinned sheepishly and ducked his head. “Uh, don’t worry about it! I’m fine!” he called out.

The nagas must have really been busy, because neither of them put in an appearance. Jack shrugged, made a mental note of where the instruments were for future reference, and put the mallet back. He thought he’d seen startled movement a little past the twilight-lit stretch on his right, when he’d struck the gong. Stepping lightly across the cool tile, he craned his neck back and scanned the chamber’s ceiling, searching for what had caught his eye. Huh, well at least the mystery of the morning bird song was solved! His eyes tracked the small birds that seemed to be nesting  in the upper galleries of the temple, swooping among the pillars and bridges and twittering amongst themselves, splashes of brilliant turquoise, yellow, purple and blue.

Jack grinned and glanced around cautiously before approaching a pillar, studying the myriad grooves and embellishments carved into the stone and twisting from floor to ceiling.; Plenty of handholds and footholds for an athletic and talented young man like himself. It really was too bad that Pitch and Kozmotis hadn’t thought to add ‘no climbing’ to their list of demands. Considering the number of pillars and wide, arching bridges, _not_ adding it to the list was basically _inviting_ Jack to try it. Smirking, he stepped back and surveyed the length of the pillar, absently rolling his shoulders as he plotted out his approach. It wouldn’t be too hard to get to the second level, which was barely twelve feet up. Hardly anything. He’d leave the higher levels for later.

Eyes bright and grin firmly in place, Jack stepped back to the pillar, rubbing his hands together and cracking his knuckles before reaching out to grasp the stone hooking his bare toes and clever fingers into various cracks and crevices as he clambered up the pillar and onto the nearest stone bridge. The birdsong was louder up here, nests built into every available nook and cranny, including those offered by the massive, hanging baskets. The birds scattered when he hauled himself into view, but quickly returned once he crouched, fluttering around him curiously. Jack giggled when one landed on his head and ruffled its beak through his hair, tugging lightly on the silky strands. Soon he had feathered companions scattered over his shoulders, hair, and clinging to his shirt. “Friendly, aren’t you?”

The birds chattered in reply, peering at him with button-bright eyes.

Jack had half-expected them to talk. Apparently not, unless they were just playing dumb. Jack absentmindedly stroked a finger over a feathered crest. “I should bring some seeds for you guys, next time I come visit. Or bugs? I don’t know what birds eat, really. Or at least not what you guys eat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your breed before.”

The birds scattered again when Jack shifted, settling down to sit on the bridge, legs dangling out over the open air and long drop to the floor. Heights had never really bothered Jack; he’d been climbing trees and buildings since he’d been able to walk (maybe even earlier if some of his mother’s exasperated stories of his babyhood were true). Besides, there was a much better view from up here, and less potential for certain Gods to appear behind him. A cluster of the more daring birds returned quickly, resuming their perches once he stopped moving around. “I wonder where you came from, anyway?” he asked the birds. “I guess since Pitch and Koz are gods, they could have just made you, couldn’t they? Or were you or some ancestors of yours given to them like the rest of this stuff?” _Like me._ “Were the people gonna kill you guys? Did they rescue you, too?”

Too? Where had that come from? Pitch and Kozmotis hadn’t rescued him, not really… it had been more of a kidnapping/adoption arrangement. He was still trapped here, after all, potential outings or not. Though it wasn’t like he hadn’t been trapped as a slave. At least here he was well fed, clothed, cared for, not forced into labour… it seemed like he was even starting to be listened to. And he could see his family again, something he’d thought impossible before. Okay, so his situation was better in all aspects compared with his previous slavery, but that was setting the bar pretty low. If he had the opportunity to go back home, back before any of this, he’d jump at the chance.

Except he hadn’t, had he? Staying in the Underworld would have been the closest Jack could get to reversing time, and he hadn’t done it. Why? Well, obviously, it wasn’t the same as having everyone was alive and well again! Not on all the levels that mattered, at least. And staying in the Underworld was effectively turning his back on life and he wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

Jack shook his head hard, earning several reproachful chirps from his hangers-on who tightened their claws and fluttered their wings in an attempt to stay anchored. Thinking about the past  wouldn’t change anything, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve too deeply into just what had motivated him to stay with the odd deities that had laid claim to him, not yet at least.

“You guys any good at mimicry?” Jack turned his attention back to his new, feathered friends, and whistled a brief tune as an example.

The birds twittered in response, managing a better semblance of the melody each time he repeated it for them. A grin spread over Jack’s face. “Awesome. I wonder if you can learn words, too…”

* * *

 

It was surprisingly easily to avoid Kozmotis and Pitch’s attention in the days that followed; gods apparently did more than just laze around in their piles of offerings, basking in their own magnificence and sending the occasional flood or plague when truly bored. In fact, aside from mealtimes and sleeping, the two of them had been quite preoccupied with some kind of joint project. Jack had stopped prying for details once he realised Pitch was near impossible to stop when he started talking about something he deemed worthy of his attention. He also had a nasty habit of offering demonstrations or suggesting a hand’s on experience, not something Jack was keen to take him up on. 

Their inattention had given Jack three days of near-free rein, and he’d taken the opportunity to root through the available supplies, pilfering what he needed and setting up a sprawling network of ropes, lines, and nets around the bridges near the birds’ main nesting area. Once he’d fully tested the tension and anchoring points, ensuring they were secure and unlikely to fray against the stones, he put his new playground through its paces. The whole web was an absolute blast to slide, climb, and crawl through, the ropes strong enough to support him as he swung through the air and vaulted through the gaps and chased his winged playmates around the upper levels, the wind whistling past his ears as if he too were flying. Best fun EVER!

“JACK?!” The incredulous exclamation echoed through the chamber. Oops, seemed like he’d finally been found out. Honestly, it had taken them  longer than he expected.

“Ah ha, invaders!” Jack called out, scrambling through the ropes to grin down at the horrified nagas, the birds he’d been chasing coming to perch around him.

“What have you done?!”

“Get down from there!”

“Never!” Jack called down, swinging idly from his hands, secure in the knowledge that this particular set-up of ropes and silk cords was impossible for the nagas to navigate with their long, heavy bodies.

“Don’t be idiotic, you-!”

“Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?! You could have just asked and we would take you back to visit the underworld!”

“You guys need to calm down, seriously. I’m just having some fun.”

“Pitch, you haven’t been cultivating any fruits that make humans completely INSANE, have you?” Kozmotis asked, whirling on his brother.

“You can’t blame this on me! Jack won’t even eat my gardening projects!”

“With good reason,” Jack called down.

“You don’t get to make smartass comments unless you’re on the ground, Jack!” Pitch snapped.

“Oh, is that a rule now?”

“Yes!”

“Never really been much good at following those…” Jack remarked offhandedly.

Pitch made an incoherent frustrated noise. “Koz, do something about him!”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know! You’re supposed to be the one with people skills! Get him to come down!”

Kozmotis heaved a sigh. “Jack, please come down? We’re worried about you.”

“Only if you promise not to immediately dismantle my work the moment unravelling it won’t make me plummet to the ground,” Jack replied from the midst of his ropes.

Pitch frowned. “He’s quicker to catch on than I thought he would be,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“You guys aren’t that hard to predict. Do we have a deal?”

“Does everything need to be a blasted negotiation with you?” Pitch demanded.

“Hey, there is a massive power imbalance going on here, I have to use whatever leverage I can get. I can’t just let you guys walk- er, slither- all over me,” Jack pointed out. “And you did decide on keeping me _because_ I was defiant and strong-willed.”

“He’s got us there,” Kozmotis admitted.

Pitch growled. “Fine. Your mess can stay, for now. Come down.”

Jack’s feathery friends took off back to their nests as the youth slid down the cords and landed lightly on the floor. As expected, his feet had hardly touched the ground before he was  seized and bundled up against Pitch’s chest, the dark naga curling around the smaller body and resting his chin on the boy’s pale shoulder with a satisfied purr, golden eyes sliding shut.

Jack sighed, wondering if he should be worried about the speed with which he’d become accustomed to being snakehandled. “Does every sulking session of yours need to end with a full-body cuddle?” he asked.

“Yes,” Pitch rumbled against him, not opening his eyes.

“It’s by far the easiest way to derail his fouler moods,” Kozmotis remarked, voice resigned. “I can attempt to extract you, if you’d like.”

“Hmn, nah,” Jack replied. “I’m alright. I’d rather have Pitch in a good mood if I’m going to be putting up with him all evening.”

“Your sacrifice is appreciated.” Kozmotis sounded far too amused.


End file.
